Monday, April 13, 2015

A Moment in Time

One really weird thing about having a baby is that while this is probably the most challenging, significant part of my life so far, Amelia won't remember a second of it.

Obviously there are important things happening for her here--science agrees that much of how she will interact with the world is figured out at this point. That's why I spend time helping her sleep, snuggling her, feeding her good food. If she didn't remember it and it didn't matter, I could feed her whiskey to help her sleep or ask Cypress to babysit.

Not that I would but...you know. I could.

This weekend I was laying on the couch with Amelia heavy and asleep on my chest (the only way she will currently nap). I could tell you that I always spend those moments marveling at the beauty of parenthood and magical unicorns and so forth, and while that does happen, most times I just scroll through social media on my phone and wait for her to wake up.

Not a lot of people tell you that about parenthood so here it is - there's a lot of waiting and moments "in between."

Anyway my phone started to die and I'd already slept for a few minutes, so I stared up at our skylight and started to think about how Amelia won't remember anything from this time. If she talks about herself as a baby, it'll only be through the lens of the memories I share with her. It's strange that this time can be simultaneously so unimportant in terms of her own memories and yet so significant to the development of her brain, her personality and her ability to relate to others.

As I looked down at her and thought of who she'll be in 5, 10, 20, 50 years, I realized that in some small way these experiences will stick with her. Maybe one day she'll smell something that reminds her of me--perhaps my infrequently-applied deodorant, or Tide detergent, or Burt's Bees chapstick--and feel a little nostalgic drop in her stomach that she can't quite identify but that is oddly peaceful to her.

That made my own stomach drop a bit, thinking of how vital I am to her survival now and how one day I will be only a piece of her life. I read the other day that the goal of parenthood is to make yourself obsolete, and my greatest wish for Amelia is that she feel confident enough to let go of me and Rob and move forward. But it doesn't mean it isn't a little sad to think that one day in the (hopefully) distant future I'll be nothing more than a series of memories to her.

Interesting how new life can make you think about death, isn't it?

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